Just Seventeen | Previous Challenge Entry

how it works

TITLE: Just Seventeen | Previous Challenge Entry
By abi dare
05/15/09
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Abigail blinked slowly, as the tears slid down her smooth face, like a silent stream on a newly tarred road. Her fingers trembled slightly as she read the words out aloud, partly because she needed to hear it to believe it, and partly because it felt like she was in a trance.
“There are options….” the man sitting directly in front of her was saying, but she wasn’t listening. The paper in her hand fluttered to the floor, but she did not notice. The large spacious room suddenly felt like a tiny carton, closing in and choking her. Her heart began to beat wildly as the vision in front of her blurred.
Suddenly, she was in church, singing. Thousands of people were being touched by her melodious voice; some fell unto the floor, while others simply wept.
Then, the testimonies began to flow. “I was healed by that song, Abigail” said the woman who always wore a red hat. “For a seventeen year old, you sing like an angel” said Kofi, the teacher. “I was depressed, until I heard you sing” said another. “You are destined for greatness” said the Pastor’s wife. Abigail was used to the compliments, for they came steadily. It was obvious, her voice was powerful, and it carried a certain anointing. She was already great at just seventeen... The man coughed suddenly, dragging her back to reality.
“Y-yes?” she managed to look at his face. His gaze was sympathetic, pitiful almost.
“Would you like a moment alone?” he asked, speaking slowly and carefully. He slid a box of tissues across the table. “I will be outside, if you need me” he added, patting her softly on her back.
She watched him leave the room, and almost laughed. Had he said there were options? What options?
Once again, the horrible feeling swept over her, first panic, then intense fear, followed by a sense of dread. She cast her mind back to the day she met him, and almost cursed. Pastor Josh was his name. He was a visiting pastor from the neighbouring town, and come to preach to the youth of their church. When he spoke, his baritone voice reverberated; travelling across the whole auditorium and captivating his audience. He stood tall, a magnificent six feet and four inches. His dark good looks were further accentuated by his bright smile. He was indeed a stunning man. And when, after he’d delivered his message, asked for her, she’d felt faint.
“I heard you sing- like an angel” his gaze tore through her soul as he spoke, and she was elated. He dropped his voice to a whisper “I come often to this area, and I would like your number”.
Don’t give out your number, something in her screamed, but she pushed the words back, far back.
A few days later he called. He liked her, wanted to see her.
‘But you are much older than I am- I am just seventeen” she said, holding her breath in case he decided not to come.
“Wasn’t Abraham much older than Sarah?” he teased, and her heart melted.
He came once, then twice, then weekly. “Flee fornication”, warned the voice. Again, she countered it. I can think of that afterwards.
Her concerned mother observed the change in her, “You don’t attend choir practice anymore, Abigail”. “Where do you sneak off to?” quizzed Dad. She lied once, then twice, and soon, the lies became endless. Mum stopped asking, and Dad pretended not to notice. But their eyes said it all- disappointment and sorrow.
Then one day, she fell pregnant. She ran to him, hysterical. “It’s easy”, he said smoothly. “Get rid of it”. She felt like she’d been slapped. “b-but you are a pastor, a youth pastor”, she spluttered, shocked. “For all have sinned...” he replied, “get rid of it and then, we will get married”
“Thou shall not kill”. There it was again, the alarm.
She tried to reach him several times, to tell him that she had done it.
She left numerous messages, but he never called her back. Until one day, she heard that he had died.
That was why he never called her back.
And now, her test results were out.
“The wages of sin is death” said the voice, only this time; it was a still, small voice.
She forced herself out of the doctor’s office, without a backward glance at the paper she’d left on the floor.
Abigail was HIV positive.... at just seventeen.

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